


A Chef's Pride

by MisterEAnon



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Cooking, Deeply oblivious bosses, Gen, With unusually well-hidden depth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterEAnon/pseuds/MisterEAnon
Summary: Lionheart may be a little too busy to notice things outside of his job, these days, but even he notices how sick his Assistant Mayor is. After sending her home for the day, though, he starts to wonder if he can't take some time off himeself and get to know his subordinate better at the same time.(Written for Thematric Thursday. Theme: Illness.)





	

“-Right away, sir. In fact, I'll… I'll…”

 

I pulled the phone away from my ear with a wince as my number-one assistant sneezed into it. Come to think of it, that was how she'd ended my last three phone-calls, too. I gave a quick glance at my desk, and noted that I couldn't actually see the wood underneath from the top underneath all the paperwork stacked on top of it.

 

Sometimes, I envied my assistant for having a smaller desk.

 

Still, I should probably do something about that. I didn't know an awful lot about sheep- Hence why I hired Bellwether in the first place- But I was relatively sure they didn't sneeze that often unless something was wrong. Probably.

 

I was sure I could leave the paperwork alone for at least a few minutes. I rolled my chair back, standing up and stretching my limbs. It had been quite a while since I'd actually seen my assistant in person, so checking on her- And getting away from my own workload for a few minutes- Sounded like a good idea to me.

 

It always took me a few minutes to actually find her office, since it wasn't on any of the official signs. That was one of the downsides of reusing a supply closet, I suppose, but it was very space-efficient, and I was sure she appreciated us getting her a room where everything was just her size to work in. I'm sure she would have mentioned if she didn't like it, after all. I brushed open the door-

 

And leaned to the side as a wadded-up tissue flew past me, bouncing off the wall next to me and falling into a trash-can half full of them already. The ewe I'd come to visit looked like a deer in the headlights, having been caught nearly throwing something at her boss.

 

I chuckled. “Nice shot, bellwether. Really Jordan basketball throw.” I was pretty sure that was right. I didn't really follow sports. “You sounded a little under the weather over the phone- Is everything alright in here?”

 

The ewe turned around, quickly scooping up her own papers into her hooves. “Oh, uh- Of course, Mayor Lionheart! Everything's getting done in here, absolutely.”

 

I strode forth, clapping her on the shoulder, knocking her forward just a tad. “Good!” Just what I usually liked to hear. “But that's not what I asked. Are you sure you're feeling well?”

 

She pressed her hooves together, looking a tad nervous. I had no idea why, of course. “Well, uh… I suppose I might be a little sick,” the ewe admittedly quietly, glancing away. “But I can still keeping working, sir, I promise.”

 

I mused on that for a second. I knew Bellwether was obviously dedicated to her job- I never saw her doing anything but work, after all, just like myself- But there was no sense in burning herself out. “I believe you,” I rumbled cheerfully, “But I think you ought to take the day off if you're sick! I'm sure it'll be fine.”

 

Bellwether looked for a moment like she wanted to object, but instead made a face and scrabbled for a tissue, hurriedly sneezing into it. “Bu' ser,” she mumbled through it, wiping her nose, “There's so much work that needs to be done-”

 

“Delegate!” I interrupted her, playfully ruffling her hair-poof. My goodness, that was soft. “As assistant mayor, you're permitted to delegate a percentage of your workload onto your subordinates, provided that you believe they would be equally or more capable of tackling specific assignments.” I tilted my head. “You did read through the handbook I got you when you signed on, right?”

 

She looked stunned, for whatever reason. Maybe she'd gotten all caught up today and forgotten she could do that- Goodness knows I did that sometimes, whenever I had too many mayor-only papers to go through. “I- Um, of course, sir. I knew that.”

 

I peered over her, glancing at her desk. “Hmm… Most of these can be handed off to the specialists. Here-” I reached in, collecting a few loose papers from across the desk and shuffling them together. “These are the more important ones you personally have to attend to. Why don't you finish these off, and go home.”

 

The sheep nodded slowly. “Right, sir, of course. I'll… Get right on that,” she murmured, glancing at the list of names and phone numbers I'd left by her phone. I hoped she liked it- That wasn't a part of the standard equipment. I'd just left it on her desk one day to make her job a little easier.

 

I nodded, turning around and padding out of her office. Now thought I thought about it I supposed I could hand off the less-important work off to some of my underlings myself, instead of letting Bellwether do it. That was the reason we kept them on payroll, after all. Maybe then, I could think about something other than work.

 

If I was lucky, I might even be able to take a day off myself.

 

( * * * )

 

It had been quite a while since I'd been able to indulge myself like this.

 

I didn't really have time for hobbies anymore, not since I seriously started campaigning to get into and stay in office, but it really did keep my stress levels down like nothing else. These days, though, my stress just built and built until I got irritable and started calling people names…

 

It was childish, I knew, but a mammal in a position of power could have much, much worse vices to cope with the lifestyle.

 

Anyway, since I had managed to take the day off (Albeit a good two-hours after I'd had the idea- Work had to be done first, of course), I had decided to cook something for Bellwether to help her get better. My mother had always told me that Cricket Soup was the best thing for whatever ailed her, and childhood experience said she'd always been right. Of course, I had to actually find out where Bellwether lived from the system, but that was fine.

 

I'd even had a chance to learn her name, too. She'd probably introduced herself as Dawn at some point or another, but I'd been staying professional with her for so long I'd rather forgotten.

 

I knocked on the ewe-sized door in front of me. Bellwether was quite a bit shorter then most sheep I'd seen, but I'd still have to duck to get through it, I was sure.

 

A few seconds later, she opened the door. I didn't think she'd been sleeping- I hadn't been waiting long enough for her to wake up. “Wha- Mayor Lionheart? What the h- I mean, what are you doing here, sir?” she questioned.

 

I held up the clear plastic container in my other paw. It wasn't much for me, but it ought to have been fine for her. “Well, I decided to take the day off as well- After getting my own paperwork out of the way, of course- And decided I would bring you some cricket soup! It's what my own mother made me whenever I got sick, so I knew it was just the thing to help you feel better,” I explained.

 

She took one look at the bloated crickets floating upside-down in the soup, and covered her mouth, running inside. Huh. I wasn't sure what that was about- Maybe she'd just never had cricket soup before? That meant they'd soaked up plenty broth, and would taste especially delicious.

 

Well, as long as she was busy, I might as well come in and put the soup down for her. I ducked under the door, feeling my mane brush against it, and was happy to find that the ceiling was tall enough for me to stand up under. Barely.

 

A few moments later, motion caught my eye as Bellwether stepped out from a bathroom. She was definitely looking a little green, now. It was a little weird how bare her face was compared to most mammals, but it certainly wasn't bad. “I- Mmhf. I'm… Happy, that you care, sir,” she started, stepping past me and carefully draping a magazine over the plastic container without looking at it, “But I'm a herbivore. I'm afraid I can't really eat… Predator food.”

 

“Oh,” I realized. Yes, well, that was probably true. “Well, I'm sure there's something here that prey like yourself would like,” I replied. Where was- Ah, right through that doorway. I strode off towards her kitchen. “Let's go ahead and have a look, shall we?” I pulled open her pantry, and my goodness, what did we have back _here-_

 

“Sir,” she insisted, following along after me. “I'm sure I can take care of- What is that?” She questioned, looking at the prize in my hands.

 

I glanced back at her with a smile. “Your spice rack. It was behind all the ready-made boxes- And I must admit, you have good taste, Dawn. Most of these age beautifully.” I picked one out. Some spice would be wonderful for this, but something subtle. I wasn't preparing a Sahara Square-style meal, after all.

 

“Oh,” she replied. “I had wondered what- Wait.” She paused, carefully appraising me. “You called me Dawn.”

 

“I did,” I agreed easily, shuffling over and washing my paws, before going the opposite direction and opening her fridge, pulling out a few ingredients. It wasn't quite what I would have picked to make stock, but it would certainly do for a herbivore diet. “Is that a problem?”

 

“Well, no, but… You never call me Dawn,” she answered, looking vaguely suspicious. “Why now?”

 

I shrugged. Lets see, oven burners looked good… Thank goodness pre-heat wasn't much of an issue with these. “We're not at work. I could go back to the strictly professional mode of address, if you really prefer.” I elected not to bring up the fact I'd actually forgotten her name, of course. It wouldn't be politically viable.

 

“I… guess it's fine,” she mumbled, apparently to herself. “I'd have thought- You're still in your work clothes, sir.”

 

Was I? I glanced down at my suit and tie. “Yes, I suppose. I… can't remember the last time I wore something other than a suit,” I admitted, rubbing a paw through my mane. “Oh, and call me Leodore. I know how insistent you are about proper diction at work, but you can turn it off at home, I promise.” I wasn't much of an expert on vegetables, but I happened to know enough. Learning to cook had taught me a little bit about cooking for both populations, and they certainly seemed fresh enough to my nose, if not particularly appealing to me. I ambled over to the sink, very carefully washing them off and trying not to bang my arms against the very small sides.

 

I let my paws work on auto-pilot after that. A soup was not a particularly complex dish, and aside from my own little flourishes on the portions of ingredients and additives I felt appropriate, and how long to leave it cooking, there wasn't much that needed the personal touch of a chef. I glanced back at her. “So, how were you planning to recover, if not food? I don't see any plates out.”

 

“Oh, you know, just some bed-rest,” she replied, giving me a look I couldn't quite decipher. Maybe she was still thinking of me in boss-mode? It **was** when I saw her most often, I supposed.

 

“Rest is good, but food is essential,” I retorted, idly pointing a knife at her from across the kitchen before using it to cut up the freshly-washed vegetables. They had to heat evenly, of course, and smaller pieces cooked faster. Now that I thought about it… After I had finished with the knife, I set it down and undid my tie, slipping it into my pocket. “That's better. Can't remember the last time I took my tie off before eight PM, either,” I joked. It was funny, because it was true.

 

I could see her watching my paws. I had no idea why her eyes looked so different from the rest of her species, but it couldn't possibly be polite to ask. “You… Seem pretty good at that, si- Leodore,” she put forth tentatively, stiffly repeating my name. She didn't sound used to talking like that at all, I could tell.

 

“Alright, maybe 'Leodore' is a bit much. How about just Leo?” I questioned. “And you're right, I am. You know the first job I ever had was as a chef?”

 

She shook her head. “No, sir- I mean, Leo.”

 

I chuckled. Okay, we could work on that. It wasn't really important. “Stick with whatever you're comfortable with, Dawn. Anyway- I was a chef. Cooking was my first love, but…” I shrugged, glancing away to keep an eye on the food. Looked good… I was cooking it as hot as I could without noticeably detracting from the quality, so it should be done soon. “Well, I'm a lion, and as far as my family was concerned, a lion should be out protecting their people. So, I changed careers.”

 

I wasn't looking at her, but I kept my ears pricked. “You didn't want to go into politics?” she questioned, sounding confused.

 

“Oh, I did,” I amended. “After a while, anyway. Not at first. I used to keep cooking as a hobby, but it takes a little more time then I could spare these days. Relaxes me like nothing else.”

 

“I can see that,” she agreed quietly. “And you can really cook for prey? Because your first try-”

 

She stopped talking, and I turned around, raising an eyebrow. She flushed, her wool-less cheeks filling with color. It was certainly unique. “Well, it wasn't really something I think I could stomach, sir. If- If that's alright.”

 

I laughed. “Please- I wouldn't make you do anything you hated. Not unless it was what I'm paying you for,” I joked. “No, that was just me making a silly mistake. Between you and me… You can delegate your work, but there's so much mayor-only duties that I need to do I can barely think of anything else, some days,” I admitted. “It's a wonder I haven't neglected some other basic thing, really.”

 

“Yeah, a wonder,” she agreed dully, glancing away. “Actually, I-”

 

“Hold that thought,” I interrupted gently, raising a paw. According to the clock on the wall (That all kitchens I'd ever been in had, of course), her soup should be just about ready. I carefully turned off the oven-top, idly swirling the soup and listening to the sound, before nodding satisfactory. I opened and closed a few of Dawn's cabinets until I located the one with the bowls, and poured her out a helping before setting the pan down on one of those heat-proof oven hung things you put hot pans on, the name of which escaped me at the moment. “There. Everything in here's so small… Don't want to knock these paws of mine into the heating coils because I wasn't careful. Now, what did you want to tell me?” I asked, brushing my paws and turning around to face her fully.

 

“I… It's nothing, sir,” she decided. “How did you even know where I lived, anyway?”

 

“You're only asking this now?” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Your address was on file, and of course I had access to it.” There were some benefits to being mayor other than the paperwork, after all. I looked up- The fan was on, which meant the soup would be cool enough try in a minute or so.

 

“I see. Does- Can just anyone find out where I live like that?” For some reason, she looked alarmed, so I stepped forward and put my paw on her shoulder. Somehow, that only seemed to make her more nervous.

 

“No, no. We don't just hand out the private details of our employees to anyone- That would be illegal AND immoral.” She should know that, really. “And it's not like you have anything to hide, right? Why worry about getting a few visitors now and again?” I mused, wondering when the last time was that I had visitors for pleasure rather than business. It was definitely before my career change, that was for sure…

 

“R-Right, sir. Nothing at all,” my assistant agreed. I idly pat her shoulder once before removing my paw, still lost in thought- Maybe I should give Raul and the rest a call, have a good old-fashioned cook-off like the old days. The peanut gallery loved it, if for no other reason than the free food. Those were the days.

 

I started opening and closing a few drawers. Lets see, there should be- Ah, here they are. I pulled a soup spoon free from the drawer, nudging it closed with my hip and giving it a quick rinse-off in the sink, flicking the water off before dipping it into the bowl of soup. “Here,” I rumbled. You should try some,” I encouraged her, picking the bowl up and walking towards her.

 

“Oh, that's really not ne-- Mmh,” she started, before I slipped the spoon into her mouth, smirking. Wait for it…

 

There we go. I could see the look of surprise on her face as I withdrew the spoon. “What do you think?”

 

“That's… That's actually the best soup I've ever tasted,” she stated, sounding vaguely awed. “How did you do that? I know nothing I have around here can make something that good.”

 

I chuckled again. “No, they can- It's all about what you do with them.” I dropped the spoon back into the bowl, nudging it towards her, and was gratified with she picked it up. “Good to know I haven't completely lost the knack. It's a real shame I don't get to cook much these days… It leaves me without anything to vent my frustration into.”

 

Dawn looked at me, but she didn't say anything. Possibly because she was busy trying out her soup. Maybe I would email her a few tips for making her own later. I did notice something though. “You know, I don't think I've seen you sneeze once since I got here,” I pointed out.

 

That wasn't to say she wasn't still sick. She still had a runny nose that she wiped every so often with a paper towel, since it was the closest tissue-substitute at hand. “Ah, well, it's just- My office is a bit musty, you know. It's not so bad at home.”

 

I hummed, tail slowly waving from side to side. “Well, feel free to requisition having a fan or something put in, if you want,” I offered. “Just because I'm stressed at work doesn't mean you have to be. Well, I should get going- I need to make the best of my day off, after all,” I stated. “You think you're gonna be okay on your own?”

 

I didn't doubt it, but she nodded anyway. “Yeah. It was… Nice, to see you, sir. I mean… Leo.” She gave me a very hesitant smile, one that I returned broadly.

 

I just waved her off happily, turning around and finding my way back out. Maybe if I was lucky, I could find some fresh ingredients in the market myself if I hurried.

 

Maybe it wouldn't be so such a bad idea to hire a few more staff and spend my life doing something other than mayoral duties, for a change.

**Author's Note:**

> Lionheart is deeply, deeply oblivious here. You can't entirely rely on what /he's/ noticing. You may have to fill in the blanks yourself!


End file.
